Read Online Vengeance is Mine - A Benjamin Tucker Mystery by Harry James Krebs - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Harry James Krebs
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It was as if I had traveled seventeen years back in time, reliving Christine’s memorial. The choir even sang the same damn hymns, haunting me with every key played on the organ.
I waited for almost everyone to leave before retrieving my camera. Lainie had hitched a ride to the church with Netter and Cox, so I offered her a ride to the cemetery. She accepted.
When we got to the Jaguar Lainie stopped and raised her eyebrows. “This is your car?” I unlocked the doors. “Wedding present from my wife,” I said. “Or at least her money bought it. I believe it was actually picked out and purchased by her chief legal counsel. One day it just showed up in front of our guesthouse with a big red bow on it. I never did find out what happened to my old Corolla. It was just gone.”
We got into the car, and Lainie checked it out. “This is the most beautiful car I’ve ever seen,” she said.
“Yeah, it’s loaded, and … it’s supercharged.” I raised my eyebrows twice and put on my sunglasses.
Everyone else had left the church by now, so I gunned it a little to get to the cemetery in time. As I parked in a remote spot under a large oak tree, it struck me what a beautiful day it was to be laying someone to rest. I killed the engine and looked at the video camera. “Damn,” I said. “The battery’s almost gone. But we have plan B.” I grabbed my briefcase from the backseat, opened it, and took out my digital camera. “We can still get digital photographs.”
“Don’t you think people will be upset with you?”
“I want you to stand off by yourself, but within almost everyone’s view. When I rub my nose, you let your hair down and flip your head a couple of times. I guarantee no one will notice what I’m doing. They’ll all be looking at you.”
“Won’t they think that’s a little … inappropriate?” she asked.
“Yep.”
CHAPTER 11
I dropped Agent MacKenzie off at the Cary PD and drove back to the estate. Our gardener, Hector, was meticulously adding a layer of pine straw to the planting area behind the pool. Hector was Roberta’s 30-year-old nephew, and he was a master at his craft. The grounds of the Marshak estate were the envy of the area.
I parked and walked over to him.
“Hello, Mr. Ben,” he said.
“Hi, Hector.” I admired the mulching job. “Everything’s lookin’ great.” I ran my hand through my hair. “Listen, Roberta said something the other night and I was wandering if you could tell me what it means. I think she said … ‛ perro callejero ’.”
He nodded. “ Si . Don’t worry, Mr. Ben. I will take care of it.”
I frowned. “But what does it mean?” I asked.
“It means she has seen a stray dog. Don’t worry. If I see it … I will grab my shovel … and I will chase it away.”
I nodded. “Thanks, Hector.”
Mumbling to myself, I entered the guesthouse from the garage through the connecting door. It had been a little wet at the cemetery, and I had grass clippings on my shoes, so I removed them before I stepped inside.
After changing into some jeans and a T-shirt, I began the tedious task of downloading the cemetery photographs and organizing them into folders on my computer.
I was temporarily rescued by the familiar sound of Oscar scratching at the front door. He scurried in when I opened it and waddled over to his water bowl to get a drink. Julie was always buying Oscar little outfits, and he had his own small chest of drawers in her bedroom. Today he was wearing a black T-shirt that said Bark for Jesus on the back. I shook my head.
“Now that’s about the silliest lookin’ thing I’ve ever seen,” I said to him. “Although it’s hard to beat the bee outfit.” He looked at me and wagged his little butt.
Julie knocked and poked her head in. “Hi, Ben. Is Oscar in here?” Oscar barked once and tore across the room to her.
“There you are,” she said, and looked at me. “What do you think of his outfit? Reverend Walters was
I waited for almost everyone to leave before retrieving my camera. Lainie had hitched a ride to the church with Netter and Cox, so I offered her a ride to the cemetery. She accepted.
When we got to the Jaguar Lainie stopped and raised her eyebrows. “This is your car?” I unlocked the doors. “Wedding present from my wife,” I said. “Or at least her money bought it. I believe it was actually picked out and purchased by her chief legal counsel. One day it just showed up in front of our guesthouse with a big red bow on it. I never did find out what happened to my old Corolla. It was just gone.”
We got into the car, and Lainie checked it out. “This is the most beautiful car I’ve ever seen,” she said.
“Yeah, it’s loaded, and … it’s supercharged.” I raised my eyebrows twice and put on my sunglasses.
Everyone else had left the church by now, so I gunned it a little to get to the cemetery in time. As I parked in a remote spot under a large oak tree, it struck me what a beautiful day it was to be laying someone to rest. I killed the engine and looked at the video camera. “Damn,” I said. “The battery’s almost gone. But we have plan B.” I grabbed my briefcase from the backseat, opened it, and took out my digital camera. “We can still get digital photographs.”
“Don’t you think people will be upset with you?”
“I want you to stand off by yourself, but within almost everyone’s view. When I rub my nose, you let your hair down and flip your head a couple of times. I guarantee no one will notice what I’m doing. They’ll all be looking at you.”
“Won’t they think that’s a little … inappropriate?” she asked.
“Yep.”
CHAPTER 11
I dropped Agent MacKenzie off at the Cary PD and drove back to the estate. Our gardener, Hector, was meticulously adding a layer of pine straw to the planting area behind the pool. Hector was Roberta’s 30-year-old nephew, and he was a master at his craft. The grounds of the Marshak estate were the envy of the area.
I parked and walked over to him.
“Hello, Mr. Ben,” he said.
“Hi, Hector.” I admired the mulching job. “Everything’s lookin’ great.” I ran my hand through my hair. “Listen, Roberta said something the other night and I was wandering if you could tell me what it means. I think she said … ‛ perro callejero ’.”
He nodded. “ Si . Don’t worry, Mr. Ben. I will take care of it.”
I frowned. “But what does it mean?” I asked.
“It means she has seen a stray dog. Don’t worry. If I see it … I will grab my shovel … and I will chase it away.”
I nodded. “Thanks, Hector.”
Mumbling to myself, I entered the guesthouse from the garage through the connecting door. It had been a little wet at the cemetery, and I had grass clippings on my shoes, so I removed them before I stepped inside.
After changing into some jeans and a T-shirt, I began the tedious task of downloading the cemetery photographs and organizing them into folders on my computer.
I was temporarily rescued by the familiar sound of Oscar scratching at the front door. He scurried in when I opened it and waddled over to his water bowl to get a drink. Julie was always buying Oscar little outfits, and he had his own small chest of drawers in her bedroom. Today he was wearing a black T-shirt that said Bark for Jesus on the back. I shook my head.
“Now that’s about the silliest lookin’ thing I’ve ever seen,” I said to him. “Although it’s hard to beat the bee outfit.” He looked at me and wagged his little butt.
Julie knocked and poked her head in. “Hi, Ben. Is Oscar in here?” Oscar barked once and tore across the room to her.
“There you are,” she said, and looked at me. “What do you think of his outfit? Reverend Walters was
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